


Locked In

by snakeowls



Series: R/S 24 Hour Challenge works [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Pain, Sorry Remus, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Werewolf Turning, Werewolves, rs24hrchallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 17:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeowls/pseuds/snakeowls
Summary: It's the night of the full moon and Remus is transforming.





	Locked In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the R/S 24 Hour Challenge set by renaissance. Prompt was 'locked in', plus you could use only five lines of dialogue.
> 
> This is unbetaed, please let me know if you spot anything wrong.

It is finally time to leave. Remus can feel that prickling itch starting beneath his skin. That’s how it always starts, he would feel the wolf under there, gradually waking up. A slow stretch, arch of its back and a toothy yawn, coming to after a nice long nap. The pain won’t come until later, so for now Remus just feels uncomfortable and hot and clammy and anxious. 

In the last few hours before he gets so tetchy. It takes every bit of self control that he has left not to snap and lash out at Sirius, who is always nervous as well, although his way of hiding it is within constant chattering and busying and rearranging their records. Remus would sit on the couch or at the wobbly kitchen table, trying his hardest not to tell Sirius to shut the fuck up, he doesn’t give a shit about the fucking Holyhead Harpies and their winning streak and can’t he just get a moment’s fucking peace so that he can focus on the tickle of fur underneath his skin and the low whine working its way through his brain?

But he doesn’t. He keeps it inside like he keeps the wolf locked up inside, for now, but it’ll be time soon and he says so, breaking his silence. “Sirius.” His voice is hoarse and Sirius stops talking at once.

“Time to go?” Sirius asks, concern and a brief spark of panic flashing across his face. 

Remus nods and Sirius rushes over to his side, offers Remus his hand and then snatches it back just as quickly after catching Remus’s glare.

They Apparate to the hut that they had built for the transformations. James and Peter aren’t there yet but they’ll come, they always do.

Sirius, James and Peter had gone through the arduous process to become animagi just for Remus, or mainly for him. He sometimes wonders. It took months of dedication and hard work and Remus is grateful, so so grateful in a way that he would never be able to express with words but he thinks (hopes) that they know. However, despite this and Sirius’s frequent protestations, Remus refuses to allow them to be with him while he transforms. While his body turns itself inside out and the terrible monster claws its way out. He couldn’t have them see that, it is just too much to ask, for him just as much as them.

So, Remus always transforms in the hut alone, and then the pack will run with the wolf and keep it in line all night, then corral it back into the hut ready for Remus to return in the morning.

Once in the hut he slowly undresses, moving gingerly as his muscles and bones begin to ache, already starting to shift. He hands his clothes to Sirius and winces as a bolt of pain shoots up his left arm. Sirius bundles the clothes into a bag and plasters a smile on his face and whispers, “See you on the other side, love.” He gives Remus a quick kiss on the forehead and leaves. Remus hears the door lock, a good old-fashioned Muggle lock, and feels the magic hum round about him, keeping him in. Keeping him and the wolf locked in safe. 

Remus lowers himself down onto the floor and sits with his back against the wall and waits. This is always the worst part. After fifteen years of transformations he knows exactly what to expect; the anticipation of the pain is almost worse than the pain itself. At least when the wolf is ripping its way through he has the pain as a distraction, but in this bare dark room there’s nothing to distract. He can’t help but notice the rippling under his skin and the creaking of his bones and that whine turning into whimper, he can hear it just beneath his ears.

This part always starts with his nails first. The tips of his fingers and toes are the first to give out as the wolf stretches itself out and pushes and replaces his gnawed fingernails with claws. He supposes that it goes the same way in reverse, and takes a sick pleasure in the thought that in eight hours’ time he will inflict the same pain on the wolf that it’s currently causing him. 

Remus focuses on holding back his screams for as long as he can, refusing to give in and give that fucking wolf what it wants. But eventually, once his fingers snap and radius and ulna shatter he has to scream, he has to do something as his bones stretch and shred his skin. He is glad that it’s dark in the hut and he can’t see, but even when he closes his eyes he can still picture the bloodied grey fur pushing up and out from the cracks. He’s seen it so many times before.

He writhes in pain on the floor, now unable to make a sound. Either his lungs are giving out or his vocal chords have snapped but he doesn’t know because by now it is all so much. He longs for the wolf to hurry up and take him, but this breaking and rebuilding of bones is always agonisingly slow. 

He feels his spine elongate. Soon, it will be over soon. Not much longer now. His ribs crack and bow out and knit back together but not as his own, and the wolf lungs take hold and he hears it howl. Finally his spine snaps and what is left of his body collapses and the pain disappears. A split second of blessed relief but his mind is always the last to go and he might not be able to feel it anymore but he is still all too aware of what is going on. He knows that instead of his body there are now paws and fangs and a tail, and he can feel the wolf’s anger and unease and confusion mixed up with his own. He can smell Sirius and James outside which is comfort to him but riles up the wolf, makes it angrier and want to jump and slam and snarl and hunt and kill and he loves them so much but he just can’t, the wolf wants its pack and they need to change now and-

Sirius and James listen from outside the hut, Sirius with tears in his eyes as he hears Remus shout and wail, then growl and keen. Then a moment of silence, followed by a long blood-curdling howl. The wolf is calling its pack and Sirius knows that they have to let it out of the hut quickly should it try to batter its way out and hurt itself. Remus. No, itself. 

“Now, James,” he shouts and glances over to see James replaced by Prongs. Peter transformed a long while ago, so he doesn’t need to worry about him before he unlocks the wards and pulls back the lock and in an instant becomes the big black dog that the wolf is pining for. Padfoot backs away from the door as it bursts open and the wolf bounds out and away. The stag, dog and rat quickly follow.


End file.
